


Abandoned

by orphan_account



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderless beings, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, PLEASE JUST GIVE THEM A HUG, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Trust Issues, Whump, locked away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21981451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The pile of cloth moves. They both scream. Steven drops the flashlight.“What the heck?!”The bundle of moldy cloth is alive.orSteven and Connie explore a old barn, instead they find something forgotten within its walls.
Relationships: Connie Maheswaran/Steven Universe
Comments: 23
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> a experiment

The barn is old, dilapidated and rusty. It's paint peeled from the walls, revealing it's original yellow coat. The windows were scratched and dirty with age. The area around it is murky, grass overgrown and dug up dirt. ‘Why’d we even come here?’ She thinks. 

“Whaddya think is in here, Connie?” The voice is young, silvery and curious. The boy pryed at rusty chains with a bolt cutter. 

“Beats me. This place is a dump.” Another voice- Connie, replied. 

“Think it's something valuable?” 

“From the looks of this place, I doubt it.”

None of them were shocked at the condition of the old barn and field; the owner, Farmer Andy, was always crude and loud-mouthed, disheveled and rude. All the farmer did was sit on his front porch, cradling his shotgun, reminiscing about the ‘good ole days’. He had taken a liking to them- even if they seemed to avoid him. 

“If it's something good, we should bring it to the house. Figure out what to do with it.”

“Something good? See my above statement.” Connie says, earning a chuckle out of the boy. She shuddered slightly from a gust of wind. “If this thing doesn’t open, we’re heading home, Steven. It's cold out here!” 

Steven playfully rolled his eyes, setting the bolt cutters down. He wiped his damp forehead, pink sleeves rolled to his elbows. “Come on, Cons! We’re so close! It could be some cool stuff in here.” 

He grabbed the bolt cutters, gripping them onto the chains. The locket was already bent and worn with time- applieing the pressure caused them to snap, the rusted chains falling in a heap. Despite the chains and locket falling, the door seemed jammed in place from age- a simple kick burst them open. 

“Yeah!” Steven celebrated. A grabbed a flashlight from his bag, shining it into the darkness. Steven steps inside, Connie followed behind. 

“Gosh,” He mutters, pinching his nose. It stank. Fetid and rancid. “Stars, I think something died in here, Connie.” 

The light darts from place to place, illuminating old gardening devices and equipment.There’s a pile of old cloth in one corner. That’s where the smell is coming from. 

The swarm of files support his idea of something dead. Gross. 

Though he can’t see he, Steven hears the patter of Connie’s shoes coming towards him. Connie smiles slightly. “Steven… that’s a pile of rags.” 

“I know what I smell!” Steven playfully says. “We should get clos-” 

The pile of cloth moves. They both scream. Steven drops the flashlight. 

“What the heck?!” 

The bundle of moldy cloth is alive. 

Steven’s whole body is filled with horror and dread. Connie is hidden behind him, nails clutching into his shoulders. They both scramble backwards towards the doorway. 

“What the hell?!” Steven snaps, yanking his arm away. He quickly grabs his flashlight, shining it on the thing. 

It's the wrong shape for an animal. Through the dirty cloth he can see shades of white and pink, faded and nasty. The figure is hidden among old parts of machines, like it had tried to burrow itself underneath. He can feel Connie’s hands tremble on his shoulders. 

Something glints in the light. There’s a chain in the dark, covered in muck and scum. It's hard to see without better lighting, but the chains direction snakes towards the body. Steven’s cut twisted, a sick feeling clawing its way to his throat. 

“Steven, what the hell,” Connie says, appearing besides Steven holding a shovel. They exchanged a grim look, and Steven holds the light as Connie steps forward. 

The figures whimpers weakly. It turns it's head, the crusty rags falling from it's head, revealing its sorrowful face. It's skin was dirty and grim, pink hair disheveled and damaged. 

There’s a large collar around its neck, wrapped around it's wrists. They squeeze their skin in what Steven could only tell was painful. 

“Oh my god.” Steven couldn’t tear his eyes away. Is this Andy’s doing? 

“Hey,” Connie starts. “Hello. Can you hear me?” 

No response. 

“Connie, we have to get them out of here,” Steven says. “How long has it been since Farmer Andy’s death?” 

They look down at the pitiful, half-conscious body crumpled on the floor. They know the answer.

A month. 

That’s how long it's been since Farmer Andy’s death. That’s how long this poor creature has been left alone, rotting away. Said creature is currently gazing at them like they’ve never seen a human before. It's scraped together a pile of disgusting rags for a blanket; to keep warmth at night, Steven guessed. 

“P-ple….please….p-please.” The voice is dry and gravelly, like sandpaper. Both of them freeze, staring down at the figure. Pie cut eyes stare back, and they’re stark against dirty skin. The light gets pointed down more, and the figure whimpers fearfully, squeezing their eyes shut. “P-please….no-no, p-please, n-no mo-ore….” It's weak, barely audible. There’s terrible desperation in it that keeps the two grounded in place. 

Steven’s heart absolutely shatters. 

“Connie,” He says. “There’s a water bottle in my bag. I need that and the bolt cutters.” Without a word, Connie goes to fetch the water. 

He crouches down without taking his eyes off the figure. The figure whimpers, tears pricking at it's shut eyes. The chain is cool to the touch, and he grips it, attempting to somehow rip them off. He scans the broken figure. Every movement Steven made, the figure flinched and cried softly, curling in on itself. Like it was expecting a blow to its body. 

“I’m not going to hurt you.” There’s no response; the figure is like a scared animal. It keeps shuffling, trying to back away. 

Connie returns, handing the bottle and bolt cutters over to Steven. The figure only whimpered when up until then, only moaned in horror and begged. That’s before it sees Connie with the bolt cutters. 

Absolute terror paints it's face. 

“Ngghhh!-” They attempted to beg again, but it's replaced with loud sobs. “Hold the light.” He says, and Connie obeys with shaking hands. Steven shoves the rags aside, and gags at the sight. This is where the smell is coming from. 

The collar is tight, the edges are sharp and ragged. And where- Steven nearly vomits- puffy distorted flesh meets over the metal. His stomach turns. He hacks, holding a hand to his mouth. 

The creature is genderless, but appears to have female like features. He moves the cloth from their body, and they sob loudly as more injuries are revealed under the light. Steven’s not looking at that, instead focusing on getting the chains off. Getting them out of here. 

Steven sets the cutters around the collar and applies the most pressure he could. With a screech, the collar snaps and falls free from its neck. Steven does the same for the rest. 

Connie is waiting with the water. 

“Here, let me.” She says, carefully stepping over. Their less than halfway conscious, but when Connie gently lifts their chin, it groans. “Please, I need you to drink this.” Their eyes flutter open, and Connie sees it's eyes for longer than a second. 

They choke on the first sip, and their bent over hacking. Their breathing is hard, raspy. Connie feels sick. 

They second try, they shudder and gulp at it, closing its eyes in relief. They both decided that they’d take the figure back to their home in hopes of aiding it. 

Neither of them had expected what they’d find when they opened that barn. But, rather they liked it or not, the figure was Steven and Connie’s problem.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new years!

Steven didn’t experience much stress in his life- a blessing, others may think- and Steven is thankful that he only deals with such strain for what is merely an unremarkable fraction of his teenage years. 

This however, is breaking him.

The figure whimpered in fear, curling into themselves, wanting to disappear. Their eyes are glossy, filled with terror. Steven stood farther from them, making sure to give them space. They don’t move from their spot, instead staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. 

“Hey now, “ He starts, voice soft. “I won’t hurt you. I want to help you.” 

They cower, their heart leaping in their chest, arms wrapped instinctively over their chest. They turn their head, wincing at the stiffness in their neck. ‘Please. No more. Please. I can’t take it anymore.’ 

Connie had gone home, not wanting to miss her curfew. She had promised to come back today, bringing supplies and other equipment. They agreed to leave the figure at Steven’s house. A part of Steven envied Connie, not having to deal with this. But he knew that was selfish. Inconsiderate. 

He carefully steps forward, his pink sandles squeaking. He squats down. ‘Please leave. Please. Hurts. No more.’ 

Their heart thuds wildly as he tilts their head with the same two fingers. People are always doing that to them. Their face must give something important away. Through their blurry eyes, they can see curly hair above a rosy face. His hands are dry and warm. 

Steven frowns. “Is this….?” He touches their soft skin with two fingers. “Oh no…Gasoline? We need to get you cleaned up.” 

They whimper weakly as Steven lifts them from the makeshift nest of pillows and blankets. The gasoline burns on their skin, their eyes, all the nicks and cuts on their body. 

Their limbs hang limpy as their carried inside the bathroom, squinting at the fluorescent lights. They’re set inside the bathtub that lines the wall, and shiver against the blow as he turns both taps on. Hot and cold water hit their sensitive skin and they yell- a low, mournful wail that makes the boy flinch. 

“I’m so sorry! I’ll turn it down.” 

Steven grabs the shower head and gently sprayed it over her. They groan, but didn’t attempt to fight back. 

“I gotta get this stuff off of ya. Can’t have you walking around all dirty, can I?” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood. 

They tremble and whine as he rubs down every inch of them. The soap seems to mix well with the gasoline and burns- ever piece of broken skin makes itself known. They want the gasoline gone, but they also want to be left alone, to stop hurting. Eventully, he grabs the shower head and sprays them down, clearing the soap from its body. Steven could see its colors clearly now, and something….stood out.

There was something large, rock-like embedded in their chest. Heart-shaped. Steven hadn’t seen it when he helped her inside the barn- it was too murky and grimy to see. It shined like a new penny, it's pink coat glossing every corner of the stone. 

“What’s this?” Steven muttered. He stopped himself from reaching towards it, running his fingers over it. What if this was Andy’s doing? What if this caused them pain? 

The figure weakly stood there, staring at Steven. The burning had stopped, thanks to the rinsing, but they still trembled wildly. “I….I d-don’t unders-stand….” It started, voice low. “W-why are you doing t-this? Why aren’t you h-hurting m-m-me…?” 

Steven was confused, angered, and most of all, saddened. How could someone treat something with so little respect? So little love? Steven didn’t do anything remotely dangerous towards her; they think it's bound to happen to them. 

How could someone think that simply existing is worth being hit for? 

The thought depresses Steven. 

“I won’t hurt you.” He said, matter-of-fact. “I’d never.” 

Their eyes, although hesitantly, seemed to lighten. Steven saw hope, almost disbelief- in their eyes. He didn’t seem angry. He wasn’t upset with her. He seemed… genuine. Determined. 

“R-really?” 

“Of course.”

It was such a simple gesture, really: Promising them that they wouldn’t be abused. That they wouldn’t feel pain. Steven grinned, a wide, toothy one. He’d never seen such thankful eyes. 

“I’m going to take care of you,” He says. “But first, I need a name for you. Do you have one?” 

They tilt their head. Name? Like the ones Andy gave her? 

“Stupid,” They said, proud that they could think of something. “Idiot. Broken. Thats what m-mr. Andy c-called me.” He shouted those at her alot. Those were names, right?

“No!” he said, a bit too harshly. “Those are bad words. Do you understand me? You will not be called those here.” Steven was horrified, disgusted. Did she know the meaning behind those words? How could someone call them that!

They flinch, instinctively wrapping their arms around head, curling around themselves, hiding as much as themselves behind their tiny, fragile body. 

“I-i’m sorry, M-Mr! I’m sorry, i’m sorry, p-please don’t hurt me- p-p-please, p-please, don’t. I’ll be good- I-i promise, I-” A sob escapes their throat, their shoulders shaking violently. Steven’s stomach churns. He felt so, so guilty. How could he do this? 

“Oh no,” Steven dropped to their side immediately, worry overtaking his anger. “No, no. Don’t be sorry, please. You’ve been very good. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Despite still being inside the soaking wet, Steven gently scoops them out and into his arms, small body easily being cradled. “I’m so sorry for snapping at you. Forgive me.” 

“B-but...but I thought Mr. wants me to be a useful pet. Mr. Steven, I was wrong,” The poor thing continued to cry, tensing up when Steven softly brushed his fingers through her hair, as it was tangled up and fill of nits. 

“You don’t need to call me ‘Mr.’ anything. We’re treated equal here. I’m your friend.” They carried on crying and Steven simply held her, words of comfort being the only thing spewing from his mouth. It would take a while for them to learn that they were no pet, that they were both equals. At least now, Steven knew what the problem was. Small steps, for sure. 

Though trivial, his mind wandered to when he was younger. He and his father were walking along the beach when he found something shiny within the sand. It was a necklace, shiny crystals place along the lining. Embedded in the center was a large gem. A Spinel, his mother had ranted. They were rare, one of a kind, and seeing it thrown aside lost- well, reminded him of his situation. 

Actually...

“You know what….” Steven says, his voice filling the silence. “I think I have the perfect name for you…”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this took so long. I've been going through some things. I hope you enjoy.

There’s a bed in front of them. Prepared with fresh sheets and pillows. A bog of cotton and fluff. Comfort at it's finest. 

Spinel is afraid, their body trembled. They glanced from the bed to the floor, then to Steven. 

“Mr-” 

“Steven. Please, don’t call me sir. I’m Steven. Just Steven.” 

“Yes, Steven.” 

It was forced and awkward- it had been ripped from their throat, spur of the moment. They didn’t want to be yelled again. 

But Mr- erh, Steven, smiled. It was worth it. 

He gestured towards the bed, motioning like they were supposed to get in. That couldn’t be right? This wasn’t correct. 

“You seem tired. You should get some rest.” 

Spinel was so tired. Her eyes burned and her shoulders slumped. Her body throbbed with pain, the nicks and cuts burned. Everything seemed so disjointed and confusing. 

“I- I am if you want me to be, Steven.” 

Steven sighed internally. His face expressed concern and sorrow. 

“No, it doesn’t matter how I feel, are you tired?” 

“Y-yes, Steven.” 

“Then sleep. Rest. As long as you need, I’ll be right here.” 

This wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Maybe he was going to bed as well and didn’t want his pet disturbing him. They were so, so confused. 

Hesitantly, still watching Steven closely, they sank to the floor, curled on the carpet beside the bed. 

Frustration was leaking from Steven’s face and Spinel wanted to cry. They didn’t know what he wanted from them. They had did everything! They just couldn’t understand…

“You don’t sleep on the floor anymore. You should sleep on the bed.” 

What?

“Really?” 

“Mmhmm. This is your bed. Everyday. Everynight.” Steven said softly, giving a small smile. 

Tears pooled in their eyes. Spinel tried to fight them back, but they spilled before they could stop them. A bed? Surely it was a joke, a cruel one, but what could they do other than obey? 

They stood up, legs wobbling, and made their way towards the edge. Steven's words of encouragement spurred them on, and Spinel sat down carefully, still looking for confirmation that they weren’t doing it wrong. 

“Comfortable?” 

“Yes, M-Steven… Thank you…” Spinel muttered, wiping at their eyes. Their shoulders seemed to loosen and sag. 

“No problem.” Though his forehead creased and hands closed, he smiled, relaxing a little. A huge weight was lifted from his shoulders. He got them to relax. Challenge completed. 

“Just please, try and get some rest. I’ll be in the next room.” 

Spinel could only nod. 

Then, Steven was gone. They were alone. 

Spinel drew their knees and curled up as tightly as they could. They couldn’t get used to this. They knew it was only a matter of time before they frustrated Steven too much, before they messed this up. Spinel was only hurting themselves getting used to this luxury. 

They did not deserve this. 

So they stayed curled tightly until the heaviness of sleep wore on their shoulders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Fixed grammar mistakes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are hard. But Steven is there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grammar is my fault.

The sun has only barely begun to rise, a soft and tender cerulean peeking from behind the trees blocking the horizon. The rest of the sky sits comfortably in a navy blue, a stark contrast to the glowing halo encircling the skyline of the small town. The air coming through his window is crisp, fresh and chilled, contrasting the slightly humidness coming from his house. 

Steven stretches, yawning while doing so. There’s a small pain in his back. Nothing good comes from sleeping on a couch, he notes. Silence blankets the house, everything around him yet still full of life. His several house plants swayed slightly from the wind. Steven makes a mental note to water them later. 

But first things first, he’s checking up on his little guest. 

He swings his legs over the edge and stands, shuffling towards the stairs. Halfway up the stairs, he can hear the pressured droplets coming from the shower. Steven’s brows furrowed. His mothers should have left already for work, and he’s sure his father hasn’t stopped by. Steven speedwalks towards his room. 

The door is cracked open, he peeks inside. The mound of pillows and blankets have been pushed aside. Spinel is gone. 

Steven is immediately concerned. Was something wrong? Why was she using the shower again? Maybe curiosity? 

When he walks to the bathroom door, he can hear soft sobbing from the otherside. Worry paints his face. 

Steven knocks. “Spinel? Are you alright?” 

No response. The sobbing seemed to stop. 

“Can I come in?” 

“Yeah,” Spinel said, in a small, weak voice. Steven cracked the door open and the sight broke his heart. Spinel sat inside the bathtub, knees tucked to their chest, the water raining down on them. The mirror was fogged, and steam raised from the bathtubs floor.

“Oh, no,” Steven sighed. “Let’s get the shower off. You’re gonna scald yourself.” He reached over and switched off the showerhead, grabbing a towel from the cabinet wrapping it around their shoulders. His hand grazed their skin. It was burning. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Spinel didn’t look at him. They couldn’t bring themselves too. They twisted the towel in their hands. “Please leave.” they muttered, almost instinctively. “Don’t want to bother you.” 

Please, Mr, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. Please don’t leave. I’m so scared and I hate myself and can you please just hold me because I really need it right now and I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry- 

Steven sighed again. “Please. I just wanted to help you. “ he said softly. “You’re hurting yourself and I can’t stand to see it. You’re my friend and I want to help you.” 

Spinel was finally able to meet Steven’s gaze. Steven cared. Spinel had never met anymore in their life who cared about her. They could see the concern clear as day on his face. There was no malice or frustration, just concern for someone he had only just met. 

Steven watched as something inside of them broke, crumbled away like rotting wood. Without thought, he reached over and scooped them up, ignoring the wetness that ruined his clothes. They cried. It was broken, raw, distraught sobbing that made Steven tear up himself. Warm hands held them gently, stroking their hair and rubbing their back. 

Spinel didn’t remember much about that morning. They remember Steven sitting on the bed, looking worried, and they remembered dry, fresh sheets, and they remembered a hand- big, warm and calloused, but gentle- stroking their face and hair. 

Despite their anguish, Spinel felt loved. 

And for the first time in years, they felt safe.


End file.
